


hallucinations only mean that your brain is on fire

by cancerthecrabbo



Category: Constantine (2005)
Genre: Accidentally High, Caretaking, Comedy, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Light-Hearted, Nausea, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Sleepiness, Whump, Whumptober, Whumptober 2018, drugged, polyamorous if you squint, you don't have to squint hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 20:18:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16394405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cancerthecrabbo/pseuds/cancerthecrabbo
Summary: John just wanted a cup of tea from the 24-hour cafe he likes.  Instead, he gets sprayed in the face by some plant creature and passes out in on the sidewalk at 2 AM.(Day 17 of Whumptober: Drugged)





	hallucinations only mean that your brain is on fire

**Author's Note:**

> honestly...i'm sorry, this is barely whump. i wanted to make it a little angstier but like...the movie is already so angsty that i ended up giving john a break and probably a boyfriend and girlfriend. also yeah fuck the movie for killing chas lol.
> 
> title from Roaring 20s by Panic at the Disco

John has learned a lot about demons over the course of his life.  He’s learned their nature, their names, the extent of their cruelty.  He’s also learned that not just demons inhabit the world he lives in.  There are other creatures, too, not quite “evil” and yet just as dangerous.

 

Today he’s met one of those creatures.  Its defensive mechanism is a spray that mimics a potent drug.

 

At first, sitting across the street at a 24-hour café he frequents, he thinks it could be a demon.  He’s sure it isn’t human.  Approaching it is a decision fueled by frustration; John hasn’t slept well in weeks.  He just wanted a nice tea before bed and now he has to deal with this thing before he can go home.

 

Before he does, though, he has to send a quick text to Chas and Isabel.  The last time he, ah, confronted a demon without alerting either of them, it didn’t end well.  John had limped home with three huge claw marks from his side down to his hip, dripping blood everywhere.  Apparently, he had called Chas and muttered some incomprehensible crap and then dropped his phone, allowing the poor guy to hear his groans of pain.

 

_Outside_ _of All Day Café._

 

Up close, he realizes it isn’t a demon and instantly regrets his decision to investigate.  It definitely wasn’t a threat before it detected him but now that there’s no going back, it’s on the defensive. Species that don’t have a drop of demon blood in them are usually tricky to deal with.  They always have some weird way of protecting themselves that can quickly turn violent or incredibly inconvenient depending on their nature.  This one hisses at John and backs away.  Sighing, John steels himself.  He isn’t about to let it go through the streets – first of all, it would be better suited in a forest and second, it probably doesn’t even know what a human is.

 

He reaches out slowly, palms bare in a universal indicator of peace, and says, “I am not here to harm—”

 

It sprays a cloud of something green in his face.  Whatever it is has a clear path directly into his throat and lungs as he sucks in a sharp breath of surprise.  It stings his eyes, though not too overwhelming, and he nearly coughs up a lung.  John suddenly remembers hanging his head over a sink as blood splatters on the porcelain.  The image twists and darkens.  He realizes that it’s actually the street in front of him that’s blurring and shifting violently.  Vertigo slams into him with the force of a train.

 

John stumbles over his own feet, scraping his hands on the sidewalk.  The scrapes burns, his eyes burn, and he suddenly can’t remember why he’s on the floor.  He almost feels embarrassed until he remembers that it’s 2 am and no one is witnessing his act of clumsiness.  John can’t quite remember why he’s outside.

 

Where is he?

 

His phone chimes suddenly.  The sound and noise combined are almost too much to handle.  He feels overloaded – the light hurts his brain and the little _ping_ echoes strangely.  The message reads, _Outside of All Day Café_.  It sounds familiar.  _Aren’t I somewhere like that?_

 

Wait.  Under that is another message with more words.  They smear all over the warm screen, shaking as hard as his hand does.  Panic is starting to creep into his chest.

 

_I’m onmy w ay._

No, no.  “Stop shaking, damn it.”  His own words are nearly incomprehensible, slurred to the point of incoherency.  It says  _I’m on my way_.  John presses the heel of his palm into his eye, wishing the throb of his temples would calm for just a second so that he can think.

 

 

 

He wakes up – when did that happen? – what feels like only a short time later.  Someone has leaned his limp body against theirs, one hand respectfully on his shoulder and the other tapping his cheek.

 

“Hey.  Hey, it’s me, Chas.  Open your eyes, John.  I’m gonna hold this against you for the rest of your life—“

 

“Chas.”

 

“Alright, alright.”

 

John opens his eyes.  Instantly, his head aches from the dizziness.  He presses against Chas for a second, seeking out Izzy’s hand.

 

He lets out a long and heartfelt, “Fuck.”

 

“Who drugged you?  John.  Who drugged you?”

 

_Who drugged you?  John?  John-who-drugged-you.  John, who drugged you._

“Can’t believe he did that,” John mumbles, tongue far too numb in his mouth.  Chas and Izzy stare at him.  His hearing muffles for a moment.  It sounds like Chas asked what the hell he said.  “Some plant thing,” he says louder.  Judging by both of their winces, a little too loud.

 

“Did you smoke weed, John?”

 

“Chas for fuck's sake, just help me get him in the car.”

 

John feels boneless as they each grab his arm and attempt to lift him.  He suddenly feels far grosser than before, his skin prickly and numb at the same time, slick with sweat.  His stomach doesn’t agree with the unsteady swaying that he has no control over.  Izzy mutters quiet reassurances to him on the way to the car.  Chas slides him into the back seat and climbs in after him, gingerly leaning John’s head against his shoulder.

 

“John, I respect you, so if you throw up on me, I’ll try to not throw up, too.”  Chas pats his head when John only groans in response. 

 

The quiet rumbling of the engine and the gentler, more controlled rocking of the car is soothing.  There’s much less stimulus inside.  John can focus completely on the steady rise and fall of Chas’s shoulder as he breathes.  He’s still outstandingly dizzy but much less disoriented.  If it weren’t for the fact that a creature caused this, he might be able to enjoy the floaty feeling.  As it is, he’s too worried about possible side effects to derive any joy from this.  At the same time, he can’t help but relax into the seats and doze off again.

 

It’s much more pleasant to wake up this time.  Izzy shakes his shoulder once more just to make sure he’s actually awake.  Chas nudges him out of the door, staying close when he inevitably stumbles over his own feet.  The walk up the stairs is decidedly rougher than he thought it would be.  John probably looks like he’s shitfaced as he goes up the stairs and walking with a new born deer’s sense of balance on the way to his door.  He leans against the wall beside his door with his eyes closed against the unending spinning. 

 

Izzy reaches into his pocket to grab his keys.  It tickles and, against his will, John snorts and flinches away.  Izzy and Chas both stop right in their tracks and stare.

 

“’M ticklish.”  John doesn’t elaborate anything further.  They don’t ask.  But the atmosphere feels significantly lighter than before. 

 

The door swings open.  Relief floods John at the sight of his home where he can let his guard down, given the amount of security he has against demons.  He flicks the lights on with clumsy fingers.  Chas takes him by the elbow and leads him into the bedroom.

 

“I’ll get him into different clothes,” Chas throws over his shoulder.

 

Sleepiness is beginning to encroach on his already limited control over his limbs.  John flops onto his bed as soon as physically possible, wishing he had the willpower to throw the covers over himself.  Chas has different plans.  After a couple of minutes of rustling in his closet, he tries to coax John into standing.  John resists feebly until Chas reminds him that as soon as he’s changed, he can go to sleep.  It doesn’t take much more convincing since Chas does most of the work.

 

By the time he’s in sweatpants and a soft shirt, it’s almost impossible to stay awake.  Izzy enters the room after Chas waves her in with a cup of tea.  The smell of chamomile carries him into a light doze.  Someone pulls the covers up to his chin and lays a hand over his forehead.

 

“No fever,” says Izzy, voice distant, “I think whatever drug that’s in his system is harmless.”

 

“Yeah, and I’m pretty sure he was serious when he said ‘plant thing’.  I think I’ve heard of something like that before.  He’ll be fine in the morning.”

 

The lights turn off.  He’s warm now and oddly comfortable with their presence.  John doesn’t usually like sleeping around other people at all but…he can trust these two.  They didn’t need to take care of him this well or at all, really.  He falls asleep listening to their quiet chatter.


End file.
